


Another Chance

by Shelaar (JonathanAnubian)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Obi-Wan Kenobi, Cultural Differences, Force-Sensitive Jango Fett, Grief/Mourning, Jaster lives, M/M, Mandalorian Adoption (Star Wars), Mandalorian Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mando'a Language (Star Wars), Obi-Wan Kenobi is the Chosen One, Obi-wan Kenobi is Mando-nip, Rare Pairings, Time Travel Fix-It, responsible adults
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26904037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonathanAnubian/pseuds/Shelaar
Summary: Jaster is left to die by his second in command, Montross, and is facing down his own demise when someone intervenes.Tor dies and Jaster lives.Who is this mysterious redheaded Jetii who speaks his language? And how can Jaster convince him to stay?
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Jaster Mereel
Comments: 296
Kudos: 1440
Collections: Favorite Rereads





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Did some fiddling around with their ages and the timeline. This fic takes place in 52BBY, 30 years before the Clone Wars.
> 
> Jaster- 35  
> Obi- 32  
> Jango- 14

Jaster glares at one of his most hated enemies, fallen comrades on the ground around them. “This is your fault, Montross. We should be off this mudhole by now. You’re out of my crew… if we survive.” Tor isn’t even wearing a helmet as he lets out a vicious laugh and raises his left gauntlet.

“If you survive- not likely!” A wrist rocket zips toward the ground, separating him from Montross who had been at his back. The man leaps into the air with his jetpack as Jaster is knocked onto his hands and knees from the explosion. “You stole the Mandalorians from me and then you left me to die on Concord Dawn! I won’t let you escape this time!” The madman screamed at him, powering up the large gun and shooting the ground around Jaster to separate he and Montross further.

“Montross! Airlift, now!” He barks in command, holding out his arm.

“Sorry Jaster, but I’m through taking your orders. But I’ll take good care of the troops.” The man says from the safety of the air. Vizla and the Kordans don’t even aim at him, their focus on Jaster.

“Montross!” He yells as his once trusted second turns away and flies off.

That bastard! That fucking backstabbing dar’manda coward!

Tor laughs and swings the guns around, grinning with manic glee as he powers the guns up again for another round. Jaster lets off a few shots, even as he’s desperately looking for a means to hide or escape. But no such luck.

Blue bolts of searing plasma come shooting at him and he closes his eyes, knowing that he was about to leave his son alone in the world. Jango… he hoped his boy was ready for the responsibility of leadership. He had done all he could to raise the boy well but he still had so much anger inside him. He would need to temper his recklessness if he was going to fight Montross for the right to lead, and he would need a cool head if he was going to bring Jaster’s killer to justice.

An unfamiliar sound came through his helmet and he heard Tor cursing vehemently. Feeling no pain he opened his eyes to a sight he never in a million years thought he’d see; a Jetii was deflecting the bolts back at Vizla’s tank. Jaster stared in slack-jawed awe as the Jetii blurred into motion, his white tunics covered in what might have been armor. “Mand’alor, how are you?” For a moment Jaster thought his helmet was malfunctioning. Did the Jetii just speak Mando’a at him? “Mand’alor? Sitrep!” He demanded, again in Mando’a. Jaster shook himself out of his stupor.

The Jetii looking back at him was a redhead, maybe half a foot taller than Jaster, with a well trimmed beard and eyes the color of blue skies. He moved with the grace of a dancer but had the same aura of preparedness any lifelong warrior would have.

“Fine. Thanks to you.” The Kordans were panicking over the smoking and devastated tank, fleeing, as Tor leapt down the rocks toward them, palming a weapon Jaster immediately recognized. “Look out!” The Jetii turned and met the darksaber with his own blade.

“Hello there, I was wondering if you’d come down here to fight with honor.” Jaster blinked, his mouth falling open once again. It was a round about way of calling Vizla a dar’manda coward but the intent was there. Tor snarled and swung his blade with the ease of long practice. But he wasn’t up against some unskilled mando’ad, no.

He was up against a Jetii.

The redhead absolutely wiped the floor with Vizla, taunting him in that slightly too polished Mando’a as he deflected each strike. It was like watching a man play fighting with a child just learning to fight. No matter how much power Vizla put into his strikes it was as if the Jetii was just too fast, his defenses too strong.

“I hope you’ve made your peace with this life, leader of Kyr’tsad. For I bring you your death.” With one swift strike Tor’s head was separated from his body. The head landed with a meaty squelch while the body fell to the ground with a thump. Letting out a long, tired, sigh, the Jetii reached down and picked up the Dha’kad’au, staring at it for a moment before holding it out to Jaster reverently.

The first thought on Jaster’s mind was that this man was Mandokarla. The second was that there was no way in hell he was taking the Dha’kad’au from his hand. When he didn’t move the Jetii cleared his throat and lifted the Dha’kad’au higher. “I believe this belongs to you, Mand’alor?” Jaster, finally snapping out of it, found his own voice.

“No, Jetii, it belongs to whoever has won it in a duel. You won against Vizla, it is yours until you lose it to someone else.” The man’s eyes widened and he shook his head, frowning.

“I am not worthy of this blade. It cries out for a worthy Mando’ad to wield it, and I am no Mando’ad.” Jaster reached forward to curl his hand over the Jetii’s, pushing the man’s hand back toward his chest and refusing the blade.

“Could have fooled me.” The redhead flushed slightly, his pale skin reddening in a way that Jaster found quite fetching. Sobering himself he pushed away the niggling feeling of attraction to the back of his mind, falling into his role as Mand’alor as easily as breathing. “Why save me? And how did you even get here?”

The man looked down at Jaster’s hand, still curled around his own, before looking back up into his visor. “You are the only hope for the future of your people. I don’t know what you understand of the jetiise but the force may sometimes give us visions of the future.” Jaster sucked in a breath. Seers. Of course the jetiise had Seers among them. Anyone with a strong connection to the Manda had a chance to experience visions of the future. If the Jetiise were tapping into something similar then it made sense they’d be able to see the future as well. “In my vision I saw you die, betrayed, leaving your son as the next Mand’alor. But when your son is older the Haat’ade are tricked, pulled into a trap by the Kyr’tsad, and slaughtered by the jetiise.” Jaster felt a shudder of dread run through him.

“Hell.” He muttered. The Jetii gave him a sad look, eyes filled with pain and grief.

“Without the Haat’ade around Kyr’tsad will run rampant as the _New Mandalorians_ make further alliances with the Republic…” The man stopped and let out a breath, as if it pained him to speak of this. Jaster couldn’t help himself, he ran a thump gently over the man’s wrist, encouraging him and supporting him in the moment.

He really shouldn’t, he should be more wary of a Jetii, but the redhead’s liquid eyes are too sincere and the spirit of Manda in his soul is signing.

“The _New Mandalorians_ will kill the spirit of Manda, burn your old texts and disband the clans. They will become totalitarian in their zeal to defang Mandalore in the eyes of the Republic.” His voice was thick with emotion and Jaster was transfixed. The future he spoke of was like something out of Jaster’s nightmares.

“So you came here to save me in order to preserve the Mando’ade’s way of life? Why?” The man bit his bottom lip and looked away, suddenly embarrassed.

“The same reason I speak Mando’a, practice Dral’gaan, and eat spicy tiingilar- I love Mandalore.” The words were nearly a whisper at the end but Jaster’s helmet picked them out of the air and drove them straight into his mind. His eyes trailed down to his hand, which was still covering the redhead’s as well as the Dha’kad’au, and swallowed hard. He had to remind himself that this man was a Jetii.

“I notice you’re also wearing-” He never got to finish his sentence as his son came barreling into his side, Silas not far behind.

“Buir!” Jaster’s hand broke contact with the Jetii’s and the singing in his soul dimmed, although he noted it was still there. His son brought up a blaster, aimed at the Jetii, and Jaster quickly pushed his son’s arm down, so he was aiming at the ground.

“Jan’ika, don’t go aiming weapons at allies, I taught you better than that!” His son’s helmet tilted up to look at him and Jaster could read incredulity in every line of his body. As his son turned to look over at the Jetii he froze.

“Is that?” Shit, he’d spotted Vizla’s corpse.

“It was.” No use beating around the bush.

Jango stood there, frozen, before Jaster felt the back of his neck tingle with a sense of danger. All around them loose rocks rose from the ground as Jango’s breathing became labored. He swung his blaster toward the body and shot it full of holes, half garbled curses spewing from his lips. Jaster grabbed his son’s shoulders and pulled the boy to him, grounding him. He’d seen Jango lose it like this a few times and he knew that as soon as it was over his son would be exhausted.

The Jetii suddenly moved forward and placed a hand on his son’s chest plate. Before Jaster could ask what the kriff he thought he was doing Jango suddenly sagged and the rocks dropped back to the ground. Jango sucked in heavy gulps of air, making his helmet emit more garbled vocals. Carefully, slowly, the Jetii pulled Jango’s helmet off, his expression soft and body language open. “That’s it, take deep breaths. Don’t try to push it back down, let it flow through you and out again.” Beneath his gentle hands Jango’s trembling slowly came to a stop and, like Jaster had surmised, he finally went limp from exhaustion.

“What was that, Jetii?” He asked as the man finally released his son and took a step back. Absently Jaster noticed the Dha’kad’au hooked onto the redhead's belt and wholeheartedly approved.

“Your son is force sensitive but has been subconsciously repressing it.” The redhead frowned. “That’s very dangerous, it could do irreparable damage to his psyche.” Jaster frowned in concern. How had none of the force sensitive verde noticed? “He’s very adept at shields and hiding. If I hadn’t seen him lose control like that I never would have guessed.” There was a hint of self recrimination, as if he should have known about Jango’s ability to channel the Manda.

“What are you going to do now, Jetii?” The man seemed to startle slightly and shook his head, eyes going distant. “Are you going to return to your temple?” If the man was stranded Jaster would offer to give him a lift, it was the least he could do.

“I… no. There is no place for me there… not anymore.” The amount of pain in his voice made Jaster ache to reach out and comfort him. Handing Jango off to Silas, he knew the lad hero worshiped his son and would take care of him, he stepped closer to the Jetii. Reaching out he gripped the man’s bicep and squeezed it reassuringly.

“There is a place with me and my people, if you want it.” He had already proven he was mandokarla when he not only saved Jaster’s life but tried to hand over the Dha’kad’au without a moment of hesitation. The redhead referred to him as Mand’alor and the fact that he already spoke Mando’a just sealed the deal in Jaster’s mind. “What is your name?”

The man gave a shy yet tired smile. “Ben, Ben Kenobi.” Jaster nodded and gave him another gentle squeeze before letting go.

“Jaster Mereel, welcome to the Haat Mando’ade, vod.” He was sure that the others would be eying him as if he’d gone senile but Jaster didn’t care. He’d figure out what to tell them to get them off his back. They had a long trek back to the ships and there were still enemies lurking about. “Got enough in you to get back to the ships?” Ben’s eyes hardened as he squared his shoulders, like a veteran soldier.

“Yes, Sir.” Jaster felt a shiver run down his spine. Oh, he could get used to this man calling him Sir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a;
> 
> Jetii/Jetiise- Jedi, Jedi Plural.  
> Manda- The collective soul or heaven. The state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit. Also a supreme, overarching, guardian like presence. The Mandalorians in this fic use it to refer to the Force as well.  
> Haat'ade- Shortened from Haat Mando'ade, meaning True Mandalorians.  
> Dar'manda- No longer Mandalorian. A Manalorian that has lost their soul and their right to call themselves Mandalorian.  
> Dha'kad'au- The Darksaber.  
> Mandokarla- Having the right stuff. The state of being the epitome of Mandalorian virtues.  
> Kyr'tsad- Death Watch.  
> Mando'ad/ade- Mandalorian, Mandalorian plural.  
> Dral'gaan- 'Powerful hand,' my own name for Mandalorian hand to hand combat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaster tries to think of ways to convince his soldiers to accept Ben and finds that he really shouldn't have bothered. Ben can be convincing all on his own.

They were on their way back to the landing zone, where his people had dug in their heels after most of the Kordans had broken and run, when Jaster admitted defeat. There was little he could think of to get his people to accept the Jetii’s presence. While Jaster hadn’t had much of an issue with them, more bothered by their lack of doing anything useful in the galaxy as opposed to having a negative encounter with one, a few of his verde had stories about meeting jetiise that had taken a turn for the worse. Looking over at the man, grasping at any detail he could to make this easier on himself, he blinked when something finally clicked.

“Your hair…” He said before he could stop himself. The Jetii glanced at him, obviously having heard him speak. Jaster cleared his throat, mind racing as he clung to another small tidbit he hadn’t consciously focused on earlier. “Your last name is Kenobi. Am I wrong to assume your first name is Obi-wan? That you’re a Stewjoni’ad?” Red hair and blue eyes, pale skin, and his name. He didn’t like trying to force information out of his savior, but he needed more to get his people to agree with the Jetii’s presence.

“I… yes. Although I would prefer to be called Ben.” Jaster nodded in understanding, glad just to have his suspicions confirmed. “How did you know?” He seemed almost disturbed, wary, and Jaster held up a hand in a placating gesture.

“Stewjoni’ade and Mando’ade have a long history of working together, being allies.” He hesitated, not sure if the information he was about to give would cause the Jetii more distress. “Obi-wan Kenobi, in Mando’a, roughly translates to _‘Nameless Boy of No Clan._ It’s what they call lost children who cannot speak, or are too young to give their name. A placeholder until someone can either claim the child or adopt them, giving them a name.” A pained look crossed the man’s face and he turned away, making Jaster feel like a di’kut for opening his damned mouth.

“Thank you for telling me. I had always wondered what my name meant but I was unable to reconnect with my birth people. They are very insular and are not a fan of the Jetiise.” He let out a small sigh. “The Jetiise were practically all I had known since I was a baby. I was given over to the temple at only six months old, with no explanation.” Jaster felt his chest tighten slightly. To be abandoned at such a young age… it wasn’t right. Someone should have taken him in immediately, not hand him off to the Jetiise.

“That’s… odd.” The man looked back at him, eyes alight with curiosity and motioned him to continue when Jaster paused. “Both Stewjoni’ade and Mando’ade would have adopted you immediately if you had lost your clan.” Anyone able bodied and of adult age would have jumped to adopt a child, especially a baby. The fact that he had been handed over to the Jetiise suggested that something terrible had happened to his original clan.

“It doesn’t matter. I am just Ben now.” There was a moment of quiet between them before the man spoke again. “Why?” Jaster had to stop himself from reaching up and touching the back of his neck, a nervous habit whenever he was out of armor and a dead giveaway that he was flustered.

“Explaining your presence to the Haat’ade and convincing them you’re with us is going to take some work.” He said truthfully before tacking on, “but I told you that you could come with us and I meant it. I try never to swear oaths or make promises I can’t keep.” The man smiled at him.

“You are a man of honor, Mand’alor. If you need me to surrender my weapons and use something to inhibit my ability to touch the force so that your people feel safe, I will submit myself to your mercy.” Jaster was surprised at the open trust he was being shown. Nobody gave up their weapons just like that and yet the Jetii, Ben he reminded himself, had done just that.

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Ben made a humming sound, not quite convinced. “You’re a Stewjoni’ad, a Kenobi. That means you could be related to any number of clans through blood or marriage both. And while Mando’ade don’t often care about blood when it comes to family it will mean you have a connection to us.” Jaster turned to look at him fully. “It helps that you speak Mando’a.” That at least should give everyone enough pause for Jaster to speak.

Changing gears he grinned. “And what is this?” He asked, rapping his leather covered knuckles against the poor excuse for a chest plate. “Pretty shoddy, vod. Does it actually protect anything?”

“Well there wasn’t much choice, Sir. The Jetiise don’t exactly have a proper smith I can go to, or any beskar to craft it from. Even then, I wouldn’t sully beskar’gam by wearing it. I have absolutely no right without swearing the Resol’nare.” Jaster couldn’t help thinking that Ben had more of a right to it than Tor Vizla or Montross. Resol’nare or no.

“We’ll see what we’ve got for you. There’s always extra pieces of durasteel plate lying around in case someone’s armor gets lost or damaged.” Ben nodded, making a noncommittal sound. Head swiveling to look ahead of them suddenly his eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade.

“Enemies ahead of us.” Jaster grasped his blaster tighter in his hand and signed at Silas. Ben frowned at him and shook his head, clearly not understanding. He knew Mando’a but not jor’gaan. That would have to be one of the first things Ben learned.

“How far ahead can you scout with your Jetii magic?” The man twitched at the word ‘magic’ but otherwise his face had gone carefully blank.

“I can sense life forces, I can tell you how many and roughly where they are. Seven, and fanned out ahead of us in a semi-circle, by the way.” There was a slight upward turn at the corners of Ben’s mouth as he spoke. It wasn’t quite sass, and not quite insubordination, but it was something. Something that was very distracting and should be thought about later when they were out of danger.

“Silas, watch over my son. We’ll handle this.” Ben looked at him in surprise but didn’t question him. They split up, deciding to take three enemies each and whoever was finished first could get the last straggler.

The last of Vizla’s troops didn’t give him any trouble. Too overconfident, believing in all the lies Vizla had fed them about what made a Mando’ad strong. He was surprised to find Ben with one arm around the last man’s throat, hissing something too low for jaster to pick out. The man went limp and Ben looked relieved as he dropped him to the ground. Jaster only had one question; “by hand? Why not use your jetii’kad?” Ben ran his fingers through his hair, sweeping the red strands back and out of his face.

“If I used my jetii’kad then anyone who came upon the bodies would know it was the work of a jetii. This way they don’t realize I’m with you.” Concealing his presence, making himself a hidden weapon for the Mando’ade.

“Good thinking. Let’s head back.” He turned his back to the man, trusting him.

“After you, Sir.” Came the polite reply, his voice verging on irreverent but clearly amused. Jaster’s grip on his blaster tightened in response.

When they finally made it back to camp Jango was still unconscious. He directed the lad to set Jango up in one of the medical cots to get looked at by a medic and headed for the center of camp.

As people spotted him the mood of the entire camp changed. From grief stricken and tense, to joyful and relieved the moment he came into view, to enraged a moment later. Jaster had no idea what was going on but he guessed it had to do with the Jetii walking one step behind him and to his left. Which… huh. Did the Jetiise receive military training or was it something unique to Ben?

Word of his arrival must have reached the entire camp and he could feel the low burning heat of his people’s anger, their need for vengeance. Before he could figure out what was wrong he heard blaster being fired further into camp. Jaster ran flat out toward the sound, Ben right on his heels.

What they came upon was a flurry of activity as medics helped lower the wounded to the ground and two verde held Montross to the ground, blasters aimed at his vitals as the man struggled. “What happened here!?” Jaster bellowed, his eyes narrowing at the dar’manda coward.

“ Alor. He told us you and Jango were dead and suggested he become the new Mand’alor. But many of the verde were backing Myles for the position. When we learned you weren’t dead he tried to flee, shooting the nearby verde.” Jaster’s blood boiled and he stormed over to where they were keeping the man down. Pulling out his blaster he set it against the back of Montross’s head. He could see Ben out of his peripheral and briefly wondered if what he was about to do would turn the Jetii against him.

“Montross, not only did you leave me to die at Tor Vizla’s hand, flying off like a coward,” he practically spat the word, “you were the one who got us the information for this job to begin with. This was a damned setup, wasn’t it?” The man scoffed and writhed on the ground. “What was it you said to me? ‘I’m through taking your orders. But I’ll take good care of the troops?’”

“Tor understood strength! He wasn’t weak like you, taking in some bastard child and declaring him the next Mand’alor! Now look at you, coming into camp with a Jetii! You’re weak, Mereel. You’re going to get them all killed!” The word was a sharp hiss filled with enough vitriol that Jaster could practically feel it.

“Tor understood nothing about what it means to be Mando’ade.” He stated firmly, fingers tightening around the grip of his blaster. “Montross, you turned your back on your Mand’alor, leaving him on the battlefield to die. Tried to get his son and heir killed. And worst of all; betrayed your people. Leading them into an ambush. There is only one sentence fitting for your crimes.” Without another word he pulled the trigger and Montross was dead. There didn’t need to be a trial, or any discussion, and the Mando’ade didn’t need a jury. Montross’ guilt was plain for all to see.

Slipping his blaster back into the holster he motioned for the two guards to take away Montross’ corpse. Turning he looked over at Ben and his mind went to all the issues that came with letting a jetii into their camp. He decided to try and side step the issue and bellow out; “I want everyone to rest up and then start packing, we’re leaving as soon as the repairs are finished.”

Walking over to stand near Ben he waited for someone to comment, ask a question, anything. Instead there was a low level of unease and anger around him as his verde kept glancing over at the Jetii. The redhead wasn’t any help, either. He was standing there a little stiffly, trying and failing to pretend that the stares of the mando’ade weren’t making him nervous. Jaster wanted to say something, to comfort him and reiterate his promise for a safe haven, but he couldn’t with so many of his verde around.

Thank the Manda for Myles.

“Alor, we haven’t heard from Jango’s group.” Jaster could hear the worry in his voice and reached over to give his shoulder a heavy pat of reassurance.

“Silas has Jango, my kid overdid it and ended up passing out. They’ll both be in medical.” Hearing this news about his son a ot of the nearby verde relaxed slightly. Jango didn’t realize it yet but he was more than accepted by the mando’ade as Jaster’s replacement. When the boy applied himself he was the epitome of a warrior, the kind of person all mando’ade could look up to. All he was really lacking was age and experience. Ben’s words earlier about Jango becoming Mand’alor when Jaster died on this muddy shithole came back to him and he felt a sliver of relief. He was alive, Jango wouldn’t have to deal with losing his only parent, his leader, and the stress of becoming the new leader all at once. It was a blessing from the Manda.

“Who is this, Sir? Why the hell is there a jetii on this nowhere planet, and why did he follow you home?” Ben snorted in amusement and Myles stopped speaking, turning slightly to regard the man standing next to Jaster like he belonged there.

“Right. The jetii is Ben Kenobi. He saved my life when Montross left me to die.” He let his voice carry as he spoke, wanting the mando’ade to ‘overhear’ him speaking. “Tor Vizla is dead, killed by the jetii’s blade in a duel. He has the Dha’kad’au to prove it.” Myles’ bucket wasn’t the only one to swivel toward the man’s belt in surprise, Jaster felt their interest and curiosity spike. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “He also speaks Mando’a, so don’t try anything cute.”

Myles let out an exasperated sound and slipped off his helmet, dark gray eyes in a tawny face giving him an almost severe appearance. The effect was a little ruined by the laugh lines around his mouth and the dark hair that had fallen into his face. He needed a haircut. “As far as explanations go, that’s pretty straight forward. Hello, Ben Kenobi, thanks for keeping our Alor in one piece.” Jaster relaxed, believing the interrogation was over. “So how the hell did you get here and where were you hiding?” But no, no such luck. This was Myles, not Montross and… oh hell. He was going to have to promote Myles and let him in on all the big secrets. As Jaster’s new second in command he would need that information.

Ben winced slightly, shifting his weight subtly as if nervous. “Actually I crashed here. Unfortunately my transport is entirely useless. Not even worth it to go looking for the scrap.” He sighed. “If it wasn’t for my ability to use the force I would be dead at the bottom of a canyon right now. Currently I’m not even at my usual fighting power, I think twisted my leg during the crash.” Jaster frowned. Had Ben been injured this entire time? What the hell was wrong with him! Why didn’t he say anything?

“You did all that while injured? Why didn’t you say anything?” Ben gave him a charming smile but Jaster could see the slight flush of embarrassment on his cheeks.

“Yes? I mean, it’s mostly been healed with the force by now. No need to fuss.” Myles’ focus darted between them for a moment before he caught Jaster’s eye and a slight twitch of his lips made the mand’alor scowl. Myles’ eyes filled with mirth before something clicked and he turned to eye Ben from head to toe and back.

“Wait, Kenobi? As in Obi-wan Kenobi? You’re a Stewjoni’ad?” Myles was so quick on the uptake. Why had he ever promoted Montross over him?

“Ah, yes. Exactly right. But as I told our Alor, I prefer to be called Ben and will answer to such.” Jaster did a mental double take and had to fight to keep the grin off his face. Our. Ben had said ‘our’ Alor. He was already thinking of himself as one of them. Ben sighed. “Would you believe me if I said that I am about to renounce my faith and currently have nowhere else to go?” Jaster felt the spike of confusion and interest from the verde. It was so strong that it threatened to swamp him completely.

“Renounce your faith?” Myles asked slowly, as if making sure he’d heard correctly. Ben nodded slowly in confirmation.

“The Jetiise are a religious order, and I am unsure why everyone seems to forget that they are _Monks._ They swear vows when they are old enough to understand. Swearing not to influence politics, swearing never to rule over other sentients, and swearing to devote themselves wholly to their teachings and duty. They may not marry or have families, they may not put themselves or those they care about above their duty. But it goes deeper than that.” Jaster wasn’t sure what it was. If it was the way Obi-wan spoke their language in his accented voice or if it was how Obi-wan moved, eyes expressing his emotions freely. But every single verde within hearing range had stopped to listen to him speak with rapt attention. “They are also taught to let all of their emotions go. They are discouraged from holding on to anger or grief, for using those emotions to draw on the force can pull you toward the dark.” Ben closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “But those are all a part of their religion. There are numerous force sects out in the galaxy that have survived as long as, if not longer than, the Jetiise.”

“So… you are choosing to renounce your faith, to leave the Jetiise?” The man’s eyes hardened and he nodded.

“They are on a dangerous path right now and I cannot, in good conscience, follow them down that path.” Jaster felt as if something had slithered down his spine.

“Will there be repercussions if you leave?” While Jaster would still like to help him he couldn’t ask his verde to put their families in danger without knowing exactly what they were getting into.

“Oh, no. Anyone is free to leave the order, I’ve done it once already under… interesting circumstances.” He chuckled but it lacked the warmth of humor or amusement. It sounded almost pained and Jaster was growing more worried by the second. “It isn’t considered a punishable offense to leave the order, although they prefer one to turn in their weapon when they go as jetii’kade can be quite devastating in the wrong hands.” Considering the Dha’kad’au on his belt- no kidding. “It isn’t uncommon for an Initiate, someone approaching their teens, to request a transfer to one of the service corps or to be given the choice of a new life outside the order. It is more uncommon for Knights and very rare of the few Masters of the order to leave.” Myles’ head tilted slightly.

“And what… rank are you?” Just like that the amusement was back, along with a teasing smile that was doing things to Jaster’s poor heart.

“Master. I raised my student to the rank of Knight. He is young to be a Knight, only nineteen. But he even has his own student now…” He seemed lost in thought for a moment before sighing. “Had… I mean he had his own student.” Cold stabbed through his chest and seeped between the cracks.

“Aren’t… aren’t Jetiise raised by their teacher?” He asked, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. He had a sneaking suspicion and didn’t like it one bit.

“They are. I had that boy from the age of nine until the age of nineteen. Ten years picking up clothes, reminding him not to miss class, teaching him to wield a jetii’kad, and stepping on all manner of machine parts. He was my gotab’ika.” That all but confirmed it. Ben had a child, a son. A son who was, if he was reading everything right, now dead. He and Ben’s… grandchild would probably be the closest equivalent.

“I…” even Myles looked shocked by how much emotion, how much raw pain, the jetii was giving off. “They are not gone, merely marching far away.” Ben sucked in a breath, his eyes looking oddly wet.

“I, yes. They are one with the force now.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “But that is in the past now. However, I cannot stay with the Jetiise. As much as I love them, they were my family, I cannot be among the ones who helped to kill my… my child.” Dammitall, he wasn’t going to even need to convince anyone of anything was he? Just taking in the expressions on uncovered faces and the body language of his fully armored verde he could already tell- they were keeping him.

“Well, since we have an extra space now it will be easy to find you a bunk on my ship.” Jaster said with a gentle smile. “Especially since Myles has just been promoted and will be moving out of his old room.” Myles looked at him, wide-eyed, before a look of annoyance came over his face.

“I guess I’ll have to clear out my things then.” He grumbled. Jaster chuckled. After the absolute shit show that had been this contract he was glad to see things were going his way. Finally looking up.

“Alor! Jango’s awake but there’s something wrong! We need you in medical, now!” Jaster paled.

Spoke too soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a;
> 
> Verd/e-Soldier, Soldiers plural.  
> Di’kut- Idiot  
> Alor- Leader.  
> Beskar/Beskar’gam- Mandalorian Iron, Mandalorian Armor.  
> Jor’gaan- My own word for ‘Sign language.’ Meaning ‘Speaking hand.’  
> Jetii’kad- Lightsaber.  
> Gotab’ika- Little engineer.
> 
> AN: Obi-wan Kenobi is the Stewjoni version of John Doe. lol


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jango is force sensitive and Jaster isn't surprised.

As he burst into the medical tent verde and medics alike scattered, making a clear path to his son. Two medics were straining to keep his kid pinned to the bed, even as he writhed uncontrollably in pain. Jaster sank to his knees next to his boy, a gift from the Manda itself, and tried to reach out to him. At the moment Jango’s presence was as slippery as ice and as strong as beskar, there was no way he was going to reach him. Then he saw a pale hand reach out and press against Jango’s chest, gently easing him down from whatever the hell this attack was. Ben’s blue eyes were unfocused as he began to mutter under his breath.

“You must let them go, little one. You cannot follow them, you have loved ones waiting here.” Jango gasped and writhed again, shaking his head side to side almost violently. Jaster placed a hand on his son’s forehead, holding him still while Ben worked on doing… whatever it was. “You are still alive, but they are dead. You will remember them, so they are eternal.” There was something almost hypnotic about that firm, quiet, voice. Jaster could feel himself being drawn in. “Follow my voice, that’s it. Good.” Jango’s body went limp once again, his breathing slightly ragged but quickly evening out.

The medics eyed the jetii, soon to be former jetii, before looking to Jaster for an explanation. He had none to give them.

“He’s quite strong in the force. I’m surprised he’s been in control this long.” Jaster feelt more than one spike of unease at the revelation. Fuck, he hadn’t wanted that to be public knowledge.

“It’s the Manda.” He stated simply and felt the others begin to relax. The Manda they understood, it was in their souls, but the force was something that caused distress amongst his people.

“Ah, that makes sense. Forgive me, I’m still thinking in jetiise terms.” His mouth said easily while his eyes bore holes into Jaster’s head.

He was going to have to explain the Manda, wasn’t he? Then again if Ben was becoming one of them he’d feel it resonating in his soul anyway. Might as well go over it sooner rather than later.

“The Manda is the power shared by all Mando’ade. Even if someone can’t tap into the force they can reach for the Manda.” He’d seen some new Mando’ad even unlock special abilities that way and it was always a surprise. “The Mand’alor is a conduit for the Manda, can access more of it all at once than anyone else. It’s… hard to describe.” When he’d first declared himself Mand’alor, in the old ruins of the ancient temple dedicated to their ancestors, he had felt as if his entire world had suddenly expanded. He could see and hear farther, was physically stronger and healthier than before, could sense the collective moods of his people, and felt their burning determination as if it were his own. Manda’s flame had been lit inside him and others flocked to it.

“That sounds… like nothing I have ever heard before. The Jetiise can speak to each other mind to mind, if there is a pre-existing bond between them, and can sense others with the force. But we cannot share our abilities, cannot give someone who is not force sensitive the ability to touch the force.” He sounded fascinated by it, his eyes lighting up with curiosity. “Do you happen to have any old texts on the subject? Old legends and myths would do, even if they aren’t quite accurate. You can learn a lot about an ancient people by how they structure their stories and what themes are prevalent throughout.” Hm, well that was a surprise. Turned out the Jetii who could deflect blaster bolts and take down tanks was also a bit of a scholar.

Jaster tried not to think about just how much more attractive that made him. He’d always had a thing for intelligence.

“I’ll see what I have. I like to collect and preserve old manuscripts myself, so I should have something for you to read when we get back to Manda’yaim. Jan’ika likes the old legends, he could probably recite them to you word for word if you asked him.” Jaster looked back down at his child, stroking his hair to assure himself that the boy was still okay. He may be fourteen now, allowed to wear armor and march into battle with them, but to Jaster he was still that scared eight year old boy who’d saved he and his people back on Concord Dawn.

A gasp caught his attention and his hand stopped when he realized Jango was looking up at him. “Jan’ika, thank the Ka’ra. Are you alright?” The teen stared at him as if unable to comprehend his words then turned to look at Ben. He frowned, then his eyes focused further and he sat up snarling.

“You! Why did you stop me? I was so close!” Jaster’s eyebrows rose at the dark swirling anger he could feel coming off his son. Ben’s expression became stern, though his eyes were soft.

“They were not real, Jango. They were figments, memories, things you held on to and couldn’t let go. They were dead and you were at risk of following them into the afterlife.” Jaster made a pained noise and finally Jango seemed to realize he was there.

“Buir…” Jango looked at him guiltily. “I-I’m sorry. I just wanted…” Jaster ran his fingers through his son’s short hair, shushing him quietly. Jango didn’t often need this kind of comfort, and had stopped seeking him out as he got older, but right now they both needed to know the other was safe.

“Who were you trying to follow?” He had a sneaking suspicion but he wanted to be sure.

“My- my birth buire.” That’s what he thought.

“Jan’ika, don’t feel guilty. They were your buire and you loved them. I would never want to take that from you or replace them. You can still love them even after they’re gone.” He thought he’d done a good job teaching his son that it was alright to mourn his parents and that he could miss them. Jaster may be his parent now but Jango had two people in his life before him that had cared for the boy and he would never take that away from him.

“I didn’t even get to see my ori’vod… she wasn’t there.” Ben, who he had forgotten was still sitting right karking there, perked up.

“Did she have the same connection with you that your parents did?” Jango looked up and nodded, still wary of the jetii in their midst. “I want you to close your eyes and reach for that connection inside your mind.” Jango scowled at him until Jaster placed his hand on the back of his neck and gave it a gentle squeeze, reassuring him that his buir was still there. Grumpily Jango closed his eyes and his expression evened out.

Ben waited a moment before speaking again. “What does it feel like?”

“Warm, thin… brittle. Like it’s going to break.” He opened his eyes and glared at Ben. “Happy? So what does that have to do with anything?” Ben smiled gently.

“It means you still have a connection to her… because she’s not dead.” The change in his son was immediate. He went from a low simmering heat to cool glass. Hiding his emotions no doubt.

“You better not be fucking with me.” Jaster let out an exasperated sigh. Jango was an adult now but that didn’t mean he was allowed to be rude.

“Jan’ika.” He admonished. The boy ignored him, eyes trained on Ben.

“I wouldn’t lie about this, not about family.” Jaster could hear the slight pain in his voice and winced. “If you cultivate that connection, shore it up and strengthen it, we can use it to find your ori’vod.” Jango gave the redhead an incredulous look.

“We, aruetii?” Jaster let out a sigh at Ben’s flinch.

“Jan’ika, he’s been speaking Mando’a this entire time and you just called him an outsider?” For a moment Jango’s eyes widened as it sank in that Ben was speaking a language that only the Mando’ade and those closely associated with them would know. “He’s a Stewjoni’ad, which means he’s kin.” His son sat back slightly, crossing his arms and grumbling.

“Sorry.” Ben let out a light laugh, a fond look on his face.

“That’s alright, I understand. There’s nothing to feel sorry for. Although… if you still feel particularly apologetic I could use a favor.” Jango gave him a heated look and Ben just grinned. “Our Alor told me that you can recite the old legends? I’m very interested to hear them. But only if you want to.” Jaster coughed into his fist to hide his grin as Jango’s eyes lit up. In many ways he was still a boy, excited to talk about all of his favourite heroes.

“I’ll see what’s being passed around for food and grab us all some to share. We could all do with some rest.” Ben nodded at him absently as Jango started in on the tale of Mot’tal the Steadfast.

The medics gave him a couple of pointed looks, his armor was pretty dinged up after all, but Jaster was very good at ignoring them. He’d be seen to after he got back with food for his son and Ben. Well, wasn’t that a thought? If Ben was right and Jango really did have the force as well as the Manda then he was going to need to be trained. It was a good thing that Ben would be sticking around from then on.

That thought made him pause and suspicion gnawed at his mind for a moment before he dismissed it. The Manda sang for the man, it was already in his soul though he hadn’t acknowledged it yet. If he had been a danger to the Haat’ade the Manda would have warned him. Gathering up food for three he saw curious and approving looks on many faces and was glad that he’d left his buy’ce on as his face flushed slightly. Was his interest that apparent? Or were they just happy to see him taking care of someone who seemed so lost, someone his people would eagerly snap up to try and fill the void losing a child left in someone.

Heading back into the medical tent he smiled as Jango explained how Naura Bralor the Clever tricked a corrupt government official into giving themselves away in front of all their allies and enemies both. Ben laughed and mentioned that he’d once done something similar and launched into a story that had Jaster’s brows kissing his hairline. Clearing his throat he held out the plates of food and chuckled when both his son and Ben blinked up at him. Clearly they had been distracted. Ben smiled and thanked him, looking at the meal with interest. It wasn’t anything special, just reheated tiingilar.

“You’re not lying about using a swarm of moths to scare an official into giving you the evidence of their corruption, right?” Ben took a bite of the tiingilar and made a sound that had Jaster’s mouth going dry. It was a good thing he hadn’t taken off his helmet yet. He knew jetiise could sense emotions, although with all the beskar and the Manda in his soul he was fairly certain that Ben would only get vague impressions of him. But the shudder of want that went through him for that split second? He was sure Ben would have felt his attraction.

“I swear I’m not making it up. On that planet they have a venomous species of moths and the ones I set free in his office looked very similar. He was rightfully terrified.” Jango blinked in mild alarm as a slightly more feral grin came to Ben’s face. Jango smirked at Ben in response and started to eat his own meal, starting another legend even as he was shoveling food into his face.

“Manners, Jan’ika. You were raised on a ship, not in a cantina.” Ben snorted and glanced over at Jaster just as he was pulling his helmet off. The redhead sucked in a small breath, eyes roaming Jaster’s face, before he turned back to his meal. Jaster frowned slightly, wondering what that was all about, and turned to his own meal. Jango’s story paused for a moment and he looked between Ben and Jaster for a moment before the kid seemed to make up his mind and keep talking.

“Make sure you finish that, Jango, you used a lot of energy in that outburst earlier and you’ll need all the calories you can get for a while.” Jango rolled his eyes but took another bite of the spicy stew.

“That happen often? Using that power making someone tired?” Ben glanced around to make sure that the medics were a fair bit away before speaking in a low tone.

“It’s called force exhaustion, when you use the force too much and it burns you out from the inside. Jango didn’t reach that point, thankfully, but he did expend a lot of energy. His body isn’t used to channeling the force in that manner so it’s more shock right now than anything.” Ben sounded clinical about the whole thing but there was a spark of concern in his eyes.

“Can you teach him? So this doesn’t happen again?” Jango’s eyes snapped up and he looked between the two of them, gaze scrutinizing. Ben stared him in the eyes for a moment before turning away.

“I can teach him all of the basics but I am going to have to come to terms with how I use the force myself without the teachings of the jetiise first.” There was hesitance there and when he finally figured out why Jaster wanted to smack himself in the face. Jet’ika were like adopted children to the Jetii who raised them. Ben had just lost his child and grandchild, of course he’d be reluctant to start teaching another.

“Well, we have time before we get our shit together and land back home. Think it over and get back to me later.” It wasn’t an order but Ben nodded as if it was, expression all too serious. Ka’ra, this man. He couldn’t wait to see how he handled the rest of the Haat’ade. So far he’d been doing a great job. Even Jango, his grumpy fourteen year old son, had taken to him right away. Watching the two of them interact made his chest ache in a good way.

Deep in his soul the Manda sang its song and Jaster didn’t even notice when the song changed, as if someone else was singing along too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I feel like I'm not explaining the difference between the Force and the Manda properly. If anyone is confused please ask me so I can get a better understanding of how to explain it.
> 
> Mando'a;
> 
> Ka'ra- Stars. The mythical ruling council of former kings.  
> Buire- Parents, plural.  
> Ori-vod- Older brother, older sister, older sibling.  
> Aruetii- Outsider, foreigner, traitor. Not a curse but definitely an insult.  
> Buy'ce- Helmet  
> Tiingilar- Blisteringly spicy Mandalorian casserole.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-wan takes his first step to becoming a Mando'ad while spending time with Jaster and Jango, touring his new home.

Once everyone was back on board the ship and they were safely in hyperspace Jaster signed for Myles to go clear out his old room and distracted Ben with a tour of the ship. Surprisingly Jango decided to come along, adding his own commentary as they wandered about.

Although his son’s comments sounded snippy and aggressive it was clear that Ben understood it for what it was. Jango was a very straight forward boy who didn’t mince his words. It made him happy to see that Ben could be just as snippy back, although he tended to stick to dry sarcasm. Jaster couldn’t help wondering whether that was to keep from accidentally insulting his son or if it was just his preference.

The Haat’ade they passed, who had remained on the Me’se’yaim during the mission, eyed Ben as they passed. Each of them was understandably wary of the jetii in their midst. Thankfully one look at Jaster and Jango had them rethinking their initial defensive reactions. Jango laughing at Ben’s jokes, which were made in Mando’a, had a few of his verde nearly tripping over their own feet in surprise. Jaster sympathized. It had been his first mental reaction to the attractive redhead speaking their language too.

“The mess hall is open at all hours and there is a rotation for meal duty. No one works the mid night shift but as long as you clean up after yourself anyone is welcome to use the kitchen.” Ben made a noncommittal sound and looked toward the kitchen curiously.

“Do you happen to have shig? I haven’t had it in quite some time and although I am a fan of spiced caf I really do prefer tea.” Jaster’s smile widened in amusement. He liked that Ben was so quick to state his preferences, feeling no need to hide or try to appease them by pretending to like things he didn’t. It made him more approachable.

“With or without behot?” He asked, curious if he knew about the herb.

“Oh, with. Most certainly. I’ll be needing it later after meditation. Sitting in one place for hours at a time can irritate the joints now and then. Especially on a starship.” Jaster nodded in understanding. Although the ship was properly heated and insulated there were still places where the temperature dipped quite a bit. His left knee tended to ache if he had to be in the cockpit for any extended period of time, due to an old injury he’d suffered during his time as a Journeyman Protector.

“Why don’t we grab some now and you two old warriors can sit down so your bones stop rattling around?” Jango asked, the cheeky little shit.

“That sounds perfect. While we do, you could eat something or maybe take a nap so your attitude improves.” Ben said with a perfectly innocent smile, eyes burning with mischief, as he strode right past a gawping Jango and into the mess.

Jaster didn’t even try to stop himself from barking out a laugh as he passed his gobsmacked son. “He got you there, Jan'ika.”

Sitting with a warm cup of shig he watched Ben carefully over the rim of his mug. Normally Jango would have turned practically feral at such remarks that hinted at his young age or his personality. Yet as he continued to needle the redhead Jaster realized why his son hadn’t turned into a pissy teenager; Ben wasn’t treating him like a child. Even some of the verde still treated his boy as an untested kid, someone who shouldn’t be on the field of battle despite his prowess and accomplishments. Not to mention what other cultures thought of a boy of fourteen going into battle. But Ben… he understood.

Which just raised more questions and a few red flags about what kind of upbringing he’d had among the jetiise.

“I’m just saying, thermal suits are definitely more comfortable than whatever those are.” Jango said with a roll of his eyes, plucking at the top layer Ben was wearing. “We have extras so you should be able to find one that fits. Besides, if you’re becoming one of us and swearing the Resol’nare then you’ll need it for under your armor.” That halted Jaster’s train of thought momentarily. When Ben said he wanted to leave the jetiise, and when Jaster had offered to take him in, he hadn’t thought about the idea of Ben swearing the Resol’nare. But it was true. To become a Haat’ade Ben would need to swear the Resol’nare properly and don armor.

“Well I…” the man sighed. “That’s true. I guess I should get it over with sooner rather than later, hm?” Jango grinned at him then looked pointedly at Jaster. Why his son was eying him with a smug grin he had no idea.

“Come on, we can go to the quartermaster directly from here.” Ben huffed in good nature before finishing the last of his shig in one go. Jango grabbed their mugs and quickly set them in the dirty dishes bin before rushing back. How he had so much energy all of a sudden Jaster was unsure although he suspected it was just his young age that had him bouncing back so quickly.

Heading into the supply room he waved at Urmai to catch her attention. “We’re going to need two sets of thermals in his size and a basic kit for now.” Every once in a while Jaster would come upon those who wanted to join him and the Haat’ade. It wasn’t unusual to find they had escaped from terrible circumstances with nothing more than their clothes, or armor. So he’d taken to having the quartermaster make up basic kits with all the amenities someone would need to start their life with his crew. “You’re not allergic to anything, are you?” The redhead blinked at him and frowned.

“There is a series of antibiotics that I will have to warn the medics about I suppose, but otherwise no.”

“Ah, don’t worry about that. We already know.” Ben’s eyebrow raised in question and Jaster snorted.

“Stewjoni’ad, your people have symbiotic bacteria in your bodies that help to keep infections at bay. Antibiotics can’t differentiate between the harmful bacteria and the helpful ones. In most near-humans it’s fine, but Stewjoni’ade require that bacteria to function normally.” Ben’s expression shifted to understanding and Jaster couldn’t help but want to sigh.

Damn, the Jetiise really didn’t know much about the Stewjoni’ade, did they? Not that it was easy for them considering how close Stewjon’s relationship was with Manda’yaim.

Urmai brought a few thermals for Ben and the man went into the other room to quickly try them on. He’d stated his measurements easily enough but it was always best to check. The Mando’ade used a different measuring system than the Jetiise.

Jaster’s mind wandered to what kinds of colors he should suggest for the man’s under layer when Ben stepped out of the back room, looking a little disgruntled. All his thoughts ceased for a moment as he took in the lean muscled, yet slender, frame of the redhead. He was certainly tall, there was no denying that, but instead of the thick muscles of a warrior he had the athletic frame of a fencer paired with the long limbs and grace of a dancer. The color the quartermaster had found for him was a medium green that made his blue eyes and red hair pop all the more.

“Not bad.” Urmai said appreciatively somewhere off to his left. “I have the same size in a pale blue and dark brown. Any preference for color?” The man gave the quartermaster a polite smile as he tugged on the high collar of the thermals.

“The brown, if you please. I don’t feel like blue particularly suits me.” Jaster had the impression he didn’t mean fashion and realized that Ben actually did understand that their colors were important. Which meant he had accepted the green of duty and chosen the brown of valor for himself. Jaster couldn’t help wondering what colors he would paint on his armor and had to remind himself to take things slow. The man would need time to adjust.

“I’ll grab you a night set and some casual clothes for training and relaxing. I’ll try to stick to those colors.” Ben smiled at Urmai as the woman turned away to go find what was needed.

“See? They’re comfortable and climate controlled.” Jango said with a smirk. Ben rolled is eyes expressively, giving the boy a playful grin in return but not commenting on his statement.

“Here you are.” Urmai stepped up to the redhead and handed him a stack of folded clothes. Ben took them with thanks and went back into the change room.

“Does he already have a bunk? I can send the linens ahead with Savren.” Jango perked up, curious, not knowing that Jaster had already chosen a room for Ben.

“He’ll be in Myles’ old room. Myles is in Montross’ old room now." He paused, scowling. "I want you to take Montross’ old things and use what is immediately useful. The rest can be put into storage for now.” Urmai’s mouth became a thin line at the hard look on Jaster’s face. Although she didn’t know the full story she trusted him to give those sorts of orders and would carry them out without fail. Jaster knew that news of Montross’ betrayal would be circulating already so he would have to call a meeting and give all the facts soon.

Thankfully he had some good news to offset his second in command’s betrayal. Having another force user, and one that was actually trained, would be very useful. Especially if Ben could teach those in his crew that had the ability but not the first clue how to wield it. With Ben out of jetii garb and backed by the Mand'alor he would be more readily accepted by the rest of the Haat'ade.

Ben stepped back out into the supply room and Jaster eyed his outfit critically. Dark brown trousers beneath a leaf-green tunic embroidered with white at the collar. Anyone seeing that would know the man had reached his Cin Vhetin and would refrain from asking too many questions about his past. Jaster gave Urmai an approving nod and she smirked triumphantly at him. “I know my business, Alor.” He chuckled, unable to deny it.

“Your room should be almost ready.” Catching him looking at the folded jetii clothes Jaster hesitated for a moment. “If you like, Urmai can re-purpose those into more tunics and trousers for you.” There was a feeling of surprise from both the quartermaster and his son for a moment. It prompted him to add, “it would be a waste to throw out all that fabric when it could be put to a better use.” Which was very much in line with his more practical mind.

“I would appreciate that greatly.” Ben turned to Urmai and held out the clothes. She took the jetii tunics and robe but handed him back his leggings and boots.

“Keep those. They can be slept or lounged in, and there’s not enough fabric for me to make anything else with them anyway. The boots are good enough for now.” Nodding he slipped the boots back on and looked to Jaster. Jango held up the kit bag but pulled it away when Ben reached for it, leaving the man looking slightly confused.

“I’ll carry it.” Ben looked ready to argue and Jango’s eyes narrowed stubbornly. Jaster looked at the ceiling for a moment in exasperation before motioning the two of them to follow him back out into the ship.

They made it to Ben’s new room just as Savren was leaving. He nodded respectfully at Jaster, gave Jango a pat on the shoulder, and waved at Ben in greeting as he passed. Jaster didn’t hold it against him, Urmai ran a tight ship.

“This room is yours. You won’t have to share with anyone, since this was Myles’ old haunt.” The room was utilitarian by design with a simple bed, armor locker, closet, desk, and chair. Any posters, trophies, or other knick-knacks had been removed by Myles; leaving the room looking quite bare. “My room is down one and across the hall. If you need anything don’t hesitate to knock.” Jango set down the kit bag on the desk and riffled through it quickly. He sidled up to Jaster and handed him the basic wrist comm. Until Ben had proper armor with all the technology that came with it he would no way to contact anyone otherwise. There was also a datapad in the kit with a basic holonet connection.

Jaster quickly input his frequency into the wrist comm as the first contact and after glancing at Jango put his son’s contact as the second before handing it over to Ben.

After a moment of silence where no one said anything Jango huffed. “I’m going to the training room. See you later, Ben, Buir.” With that his son was gone, practically running down the hallway away from them. Jaster shook his head at his impatient kid before turning back to Ben.

The man was looking down at the clothes in his arms, around at the room, and then back at him. A melancholic look came over him that made Jaster want to reach out and comfort him. It could be hard to leave a life you knew and loved behind, he should know. His own life had been upended a couple times in his life.

“Thank you for all of this, I really appreciate it.” The gratitude in Ben’s voice was very apparent and Jaster couldn’t resist the urge to step closer and place a hand on the back of the man’s neck, squeezing gently in reassurance. Ben’s blue eyes widened slightly but he didn’t step away, his gaze steady as he stared into Jaster’s dark brown eyes.

“There’s no debt, Ben. We take care of our own.” Ben nodded, smiling warmly and relaxing into Jaster’s hand. The look in the redhead’s eyes was so hopeful and trusting that Jaster felt his breath hitch.

The Manda trilled with joy before Ben slipped out of his hold with a small, shy, chuckle. “I should put my things away and meditate. I have a lot to think about.” Jaster let his arm fall to his side, trying to ignore the lingering warmth.

“I’ll let you get on with it then. I’ll contact you around late meal and we can discuss your oaths.” Ben looked back at him and nodded once solemnly.

By this time tomorrow Obi-wan Kenobi the Jetii would be gone, and Ben Kenobi of the Haat Mando’ade would take his place.

Jaster couldn’t wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a;
> 
> Me’se’yaim- Home ship. Same concept as a Mother ship.  
> Verde- Soldiers, warriors.  
> Haat’ade- Shortened Haat Mando’ade, meaning True Mandalorians. Jaster’s faction.  
> Shig- Mandalorian tea, often made with whatever is available on hand.  
> Behot- A citrusy herb with medicinal properties.  
> Cin Vhetin- Term indicating the erasing of a person's past when they become Mandalorian, and that they will only be judged by what they do from that point onwards. A fresh start, a new beginning.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaster has it bad and Jango is being devious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important AN: My laptop keyboard has decided it no longer wants to live on this planet anymore. In particular the T key has been giving me a lot of trouble, either sticking or not working at all. So all my works will be hella slow to update until it either gets fixed or I can afford a new laptop. ^_^"

“Alright, settle down!” Calling everyone to attention he looked over the gathered verde and bit back a sigh. Most of them had heard of Ben, had seen him wandering with Jaster and his son. By now, thanks to the gossip network, they had also learned he was a jetii. It was time to dispel some of the worst rumours and assure his people that Ben was someone that would be a benefit to the Haat’ade. Next to him stood Myles, a reminder that there was more news than just the inevitable adoption of a wayward jetii.

“You’ve all heard the rumours floating around. I’m here to make sure you lot have the right information before you go off half cocked.” There were a few snickers from the crowd and Jaster gave them an amused grin in return. “Ben Kenobi is a Stewjoni’ad. On Korda VI he killed Tor Vizla, saving my life in the process. You’ll know him when you see him, as the one to kill Tor he now carries the Dha’kad’au.” A few muttered curses and surprised gasps came from the crowd. Myles snorted next to him. “He is also a jetii.”

“You let a jetii on our ship?” Vixna bit out incredulously from the front row.

“Yes. I let a jetii on my ship.” He emphasized. “The man is mandokarla, honorable, and comes to us looking for a new life. As a man who saved my life, a Stewjoni’ad no less, I am willing to give him that chance.” He took a deep breath to steady himself before he spoke again, uncertain how his people would take his next words. “Manda already accepts him as one of us.”

There was a clatter of noise as multiple people started talking at once, some nearly yelling in order to be heard.

“Be silent!” He commanded with all the authority he could muster. The room quieted down with agitated murmurs. “Tomorrow Kenobi will be renouncing any ties to the jetiise and the Republic. He comes to us as a lost child, seeking Manda’s embrace.” It wasn’t often that he fell into the flowery speech of Manda’s chosen but he knew what the effect would be on the verde. Their silent reverence said more than any words ever could as he reached out to every one of them, letting them feel the Manda that flowed through him. “Cin Vhetin is a sacred rite. If he is lying, trying to trick us, we’ll find out tomorrow.” He paused to look over the crowd, feeling how each of them slowly relaxed, acknowledging the warm truth of Manda in their souls. “Until I say otherwise you are all forbidden from causing him any harm. He is under my protection. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Alor!” They replied as one voice.

“Good. One last thing, you have all heard by now that Montross is no longer with us.” His eyes turned hard as beskar. “Montross betrayed us to our enemies, left me and my heir for dead. He was declared dar’manda and executed for his crimes. I have promoted Myles in his place. We will be reevaluating you all and reassigning you to new squads.” There was no telling what kind of shit Montross had pulled in preparation for betraying them. Now every decision he had made was under scrutiny. “If you want to stay with your current squad or in your current position let one of us know and we’ll consider it.” He looked around the room. “Any questions?”

“Alor?” Of course Mave would immediately jump at the chance, she was a curious sort. He nodded to her in acknowledgment. This was sure to be interesting.

“Is it true the jetii lost his ad and bu’ad?” Jaster blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected her to ask something that personal but looking at Mave he could tell she was actually concerned about the rumor. As any good mando’ad would be hearing about the loss of children.

“I don’t know their names but yes. His ad was only nineteen. The jetii choose their students young so I suspect his bu’ad was somewhere between ten and fourteen.” There was a sense of concern and growing realization amongst his people.

“How did they die?” Jaster shook his head sadly. He hadn’t asked. The raw pain on Ben’s face had been enough for him. If the man chose to talk about it later he would accept that. Until then Ben’s pain was his own and no one had a right to force that information from him.

“I overheard him speaking Mando’a, is he fluent?” Voulen asked to break the heavy silence.

“He speaks proper Mando’a for an outsider, but not all of the parts one would learn growing up in a clan. Whoever taught him also stayed away from teaching him anything about the Manda. Otherwise he’s only asked about a few unfamiliar words in Basic.” There were mutters of interest amongst his people and Jaster snorted in amusement.

“Anything else?” When no one immediately spoke up Jaster took it as a sign that he could wrap up the meeting and dismissed everyone back to their duties.

For the next three hours he and Myles went over old reports and personal profiles of every verd. It was all one massive headache. At least six different clans who had feuds with one another had been put together on the same squad and it was obvious it was causing problems. According to some new messages they’d received during their work some of the reports had been doctored or deleted entirely to hide the friction between different groups. Myles gave him a sympathetic look before he remembered that Jaster had made him second in command and began glaring at him over the datapad in his hands.

When late meal rolled around he sent Myles off and walked to the mess on his own. He spied Jango sitting with some of the younger verde, arguing about something heatedly, and smiled. “Did our guest stop by yet?” When the verd on kitchen duty replied in the negative Jaster grabbed two plates of food and set off for Ben’s quarters.

Knocking on the door first he walked inside when it opened and stopped just inside the doorway, eyebrows raised in surprise. The man was karking floating. There was at least half a foot between him and the bed. Opening impossibly blue eyes that he swore were glowing the man looked at him in confusion for a moment before he suddenly fell to the bed with a small thump.

“Ah, is it that time already?” He asked in that cultured voice of his. Jaster snorted and came inside, holding out the plate of food and a set of cutlery. Ben smiled and took the food gratefully with a small ‘thank you.’

Jaster pulled out the chair from the desk and sat down, watching Ben as he took the first few bites of the spiced meat and vegetables over steamed grains. The look of delight on his face made Jaster smile as he started to eat his own meal.

“It almost tastes as if they used ale in this.” Jaster grinned.

“That’s because they did. They stewed the meat in ale for a few hours before adding the spices, vegetables, and sauce.” Ben grinned back and took another bite.

“It’s delicious. What is it called?”

“Jan’gal jaon neral.” Ben took a moment to translate it then gave him a deadpan look. Jaster chuckled. “It doesn’t really have a name. It’s the kind of dish everyone and their grandmother knows, and every clan makes it differently. The ingredients are pretty negotiable, the important part is the spice mix.” The man thought about that for a moment and nodded in understanding.

“So which clan made this version?” Jaster thought about it for a moment.

“Clan Warden. They always use too much catabar, gives it a sweet aftertaste.” Ben laughed at his disgruntled look.

“I’ll have to try some of Clan Mereel’s then if I want it done properly.” Jaster swallowed hard at the thought. He wasn’t sure how it was for the jetiise, he’d always heard they weren’t allowed relationships or family, but one of the things mando’ade did to entice a potential partner was to share their home cooking. Not only did it suggest that the mando’ad in question could provide for the potential partner but it was a way to show trust. Clan recipes were a jealously guarded secret to non-clan members. But Ben couldn’t know any of that, or he wouldn’t have suggested it.

“Perhaps, once we get to Manda’yaim.” The man blinked and frowned.

“Of course, do forgive me, Mand’alor. I suppose you would be far too busy to indulge in that sort of thing.” Now he was certain Ben didn’t know about that little tidbit about sharing ones cooking with another person being a way to court someone. Otherwise he wouldn’t be acting as if it were something so frivolous.

“Not too busy for that, we just don’t have the required spices on board.” He said with an easy smile, trying to make it less of an issue.

“Ah.” Silence descended and Jaster couldn’t help but to fidget. He may be a skilled orator and technically a politician but he was also a man of action.

“So. Tomorrow we’ll be performing your Cin Vhetin ceremony.” Another look of confusion. Ka’ra, who had taught him Mando’a without even discussing the Cin Vhetin? “Cin Vhetin is what we call the oath swearing ceremony, where you denounce your past and are reborn as a Mando’ad. It’s where you’ll swear to the Resol’nare.” He paused. “You do know the Resol’nare, don’t you?”

“Educating the next generation, wearing armor, learning self defense, loyalty to one’s clan, speaking Mando’a, and answering the Mand’alor’s call.” Thank every star in Manda’yaim’s sky!

“Good. Swearing the Resol’nare is the first step. You’ll need to be adopted into a Clan as well.” A thought niggled the back of his mind and he cleared his throat, sitting a little straighter. “I’d like to extend the offer to join my own clan, if that’s acceptable to you. As a Kenobi you have the right to change your name to that of your clan. Being nameless is… not looked upon favorably to the Mando’ade.”

“So I would be Ben Mereel of Clan Mereel?” Jaster nodded, shoving his emotions behind a false calm.

“You would also be of House Mereel. As Mand’alor my clan also becomes the name of my political house. As a Haat’ade you would automatically be considered House Mereel.” The man let out a low, considering, hum as he thought it over.

“I would be honored to accept, Mand’alor.” Jaster couldn’t hold back the wide smile that crossed his face.

“I think, considering we’re about to become clan, that you should really call me Jaster.” Ben’s smile was wicked and his eyes shone with mirth.

“Well then, Jaster, I suppose you should call me Ben then.” Kriff, that look should not be half as attractive as it was.

“I would have done so rega-” His comm went off and he sighed, setting his plate of food down on the desk behind him. “What is it?”

“Buir, you’re with Ben, right?” Jango’s voice came over the comm.

“I am. What’s up Jan’ika?”

“Ask him if he wants a flamethrower or a whipcord.” He looked up at Ben to see the man frowning at the comm.

“If I had to choose I suppose a whipcord would be more useful for me.” There was some hesitance there and Jaster wanted to sigh.

“What brought this on, Jan’ika?” His son let out an annoyed huff.

“For tomorrow. He’ll need at least one piece of armor, buir. You didn’t forget, did you old man?” There was a mix of light teasing and faint rebuke in his words.

“I didn’t forget. I was going to grab him some plain bracers. Not ones with weapons pre-installed.”

“I had some time to kill, so…” Jaster chuckled.

“It’s fine, ad’ika. If you’re taking care of it that frees me up for other matters. Just don’t get carried away.” Jango snorted.

“No promises.” Then the little bugger signed off.

“He’s very headstrong.” Ben said, approval in his voice. Jaster laughed.

“No idea where he gets it from. Certainly not me.” Ben joined him in laughing. The light sound of his amusement was very pleasant to listen to.

“Of course. It’s an absolute mystery.”

Once they’d finished eating and talking about what to expect in the ceremony the next day Jaster suggested Ben visit the medics to get a full check up. They would need to get his medical history on file before he could even contemplate going on a mission anyway. Mando’ad medics were not to be taken lightly. Baar’ur Verill was particularly vicious if you got on his bad side.

Ben made a face but didn’t argue. Jaster gathered their dishes and offered to show him the way to medical. With a resigned sigh the man nodded and got up from the bed, looking like an agitated tooka. Jaster chuckled under his breath. Ben was a chosen of Manda all right. Stubborn.

“Come on, the sooner we get there the sooner you can get it over with.” Ben huffed, rolling his eyes slightly, but there was an amused tilt to his lips that hinted towards it being in good humor.

Jaster had to force himself to look away from those lips and focus on the task at hand.

Ka’ra. He was screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a
> 
> Verde- Soldiers/Warriors.  
> Ad- Child.  
> Bu'ad- Grandchild.  
> Jan’gal jaon neral- Spiced ale over grains. Which is just a basic description of the actual meal itself, rather than a name.  
> Cin Vhetin- The White Field; a blank slate to start your life over again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cin Vhetin- The erasing of a person's past when they become Mandalorian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, but an important one.

After the absolute disaster that was the first meeting between Ben and Baar’ur Veriil Jaster was trying, and failing, to calm down his medic as the male ranted at Ben. The man in question was standing behind Jaster, looking sheepish and uncomfortable, as Br. Verill went off about telling medical professionals when you’re injured and Ben’s absolute lack of common sense. It was truly awe inspiring the amount of bitching coming from the Chagrian. Not that Br. Verill bitching someone out was anything new. Jaster knew that it was the male’s way of caring for the stubborn warriors who didn’t know when to sit down and shut up but it was a little jarring seeing him become so caustic so quickly.

“Slow down, vod, we only recently found him. He’s not used to the way we do things.” He tried, holding his hands up as if in surrender.

“Alor, you don’t understand! The scans show that he has at least four cracked ribs, a hairline fracture in his left wrist, and he’s lucky that ankle is only sprained. From what I’ve heard he’s been walking around as if nothing’s wrong!” Jaster blinked in surprise and turned to look back at Ben. The man hunched his shoulders slightly, as if that would make him less of a target. Jaster let out a heavy sigh.

He’d figured that the Jetiise at least would have taught their people the importance of proper medical care. “Ben, vod, why didn’t you say anything?” The slight disappointment in Jaster’s voice made the man’s face flush in embarrassment.

“Well I… you’d just come from a terrible ordeal and there were a lot of verde who were injured far worse than myself. I have the Force to bolster me, I’ll be fine.” Br. Verill threw up his hands in exasperation.

“Idiot! Sit your ass down on that table right now!” Growled the medic, pointing to the examination table. “I’m going to get some bacta patches and a wrap for those ribs.” He turned and stalked over to the other side of the room, cursing under his breath and yanking open drawers before aggressively rifling through them. The moment he seemed distracted Ben leaned closer to Jaster’s ear.

“Is there any way to escape? Or will he just hunt me down and drag me back?” Jaster snorted in amusement.

“You’re stuck, vod. No one will help you hide from an irate Br. They know better.” Ben let out a frustrated huff before stiffening, Verill was glaring over his shoulder at them. With as much dignity he could muster Ben sat on the examination table, trying to act as if it had been his intention all along. Jaster chuckled and moved to stand next to the door, giving Ben some space. It was obvious the man didn’t particularly like the medical bay.

He was going to fit right in with the other verde. None of them liked medical either.

“Ouch!” He raised a brow as Ben began to pout, rubbing at the side of his neck where the Chagrian had injected him with something.

“That’s a painkiller and anti-inflammatory.” Without missing a beat he knocked Ben’s hand away and injected him again. The redhead hissed and scowled at the medic, who looked down at him with an unimpressed expression. “And that was all the boosters you’ll need. We’ve come into contact with a few nasty viruses lately. Ones that even your biology won’t be able to handle without help.”

“That’s all well and good, but you could have warned me.” Br. Verill shook his head and moved on.

When he was finished he had all he needed to run the proper tests and begin a medical file that would be shared amongst the medics of the Haat’ade. Ben looked like an affronted cat as he was told to keep off his ankle as much as possible and not to engage in any physical activities for at least four days. Which meant no sparring, no roughhousing, and absolutely no weapons practice. The medic had glared pointedly at Ben’s belt where his lightsabers were kept.

“Well, at least it’s over and done with.” Jaster said cheerfully. Ben gave him a half disgusted, half betrayed, look and Jaster couldn’t help laughing. “I think that’s it for the night. You should listen to the baar’ur’s advice and head to bed early. We’ll be waking you early so you can get ready for the ceremony.” Ben let out a sigh and nodded, following Jaster back to his room.

“Ben.” He said when they made it back to his new quarters. “I know that Br. Verill seems very acidic, but he has the best intentions.” The man smiled at him, eyes softening.

“I know, I could sense he only wanted to help. Besides, he reminds me of someone I used to know…” He trailed off for a moment and his expression became pained. Jaster reached out and put a hand on his shoulder to ground him. He’d seen that same far off look on verde who had lost someone close to them and weren’t quite present mentally. The redhead swallowed hard and gave him a grateful look.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ben. Have a good night.” Ben smiled and it was a soft thing that had Jaster’s breath hitching.

“Bright and early, I assume?” He chuckled. “Have a good night, Jaster.” With that Ben took a step back and the door closed between them.

It took him a moment to pull himself away from the door, his chest feeling tight and feeling a little flushed. Shaking himself like a striil he forced himself back to his own quarters.

He had work to do if he wanted everything to go smoothly the next day.

* * *

Bright and early he gathered as many verde as he could in the main briefing room. Considering who it was that was about to swear to the Resol’nare he wasn’t surprised when the majority of off duty Mando’ade showed up to fight over front row seats. Jaster stood at the head of the room with Myles, sharing an amused if disgruntled look. Jango had won the honor of fetching Ben and had already vanished into the hall.

“Alright! Settle down!” He called out when Jango pinged his comm to let him know they were just outside. Jaster cleared his throat and looked around the room, making sure his people were paying attention. “Today we are here to welcome a new member of House Mereel. They come to us, renouncing all they were before, to be reborn as one of Manda’s children.” He tapped his control pad and the door opened. Jango and Ben stepped inside. His son stood proudly, beskar’gam cleaned and helmet on. While Ben looked a little more subdued, contemplative. “Obi-wan Kenobi.” The man froze for a moment before relaxing, remembering that using his real name was all part of the ceremony. “Come forward.”

Jango escorted Ben until he was standing about five feet or so in front of Jaster. The man went down on one knee, right fist over his left breast and head bowed. “Mand’alor.” He said respectfully, voice loud and clear for all to hear. Jaster nodded in approval.

“Obi-wan Kenobi. Speak now, and speak truly- do you renounce your past identity? Are you ready to leave behind who you were in order to embrace Manda’s gift?” Ben raised his head, blue eyes bright with determination.

“I do.” The air sang with the truth of his words.

“Do you renounce your faith and your place among the Jetiise?” Everyone in the room perked up, some leaning closer to make sure they didn’t miss anything. Ben took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I do. I renounce my faith in the Order and entrust myself to the Manda.” Everyone seemed to hold their breath but when nothing bad happened the tense atmosphere broke. In its place was excitement and a slowly building acceptance.

“Do you swear to uphold the Six Tenets of the Mando’ade?” Ben nodded.

“I swear to educate myself and the next generation. To wear my armor with pride and honor. To be a loyal and dutiful member of my clan. To learn and speak Mando’a. And to answer the call of my Mand’alor. So I swear.” Around them he could feel the Manda swell and the excitement in the room rose another notch. Every one of them could feel the warm approval of Manda and knew that Ben had been deemed worthy. Jaster grinned behind his visor.

“Who will sponsor this warrior?” Jango took off his helmet to speak but was interrupted as Myles stepped forward.

“I do. I claim this warrior for Clan Vhehn.” Jaster’s mouth fell open in surprise as Jango scowled at the second in command. Myles' lips quirked up into a triumphant smile, his eyes blazing with challenge. If Jaster tried to claim Ben now they would have to fight for it. In this uncertain time he couldn’t afford to have the verde seeing their leaders fighting amongst themselves. He grit his teeth and conceded defeat.

Well played. He would have to get his revenge later.

“Do you accept this sponsorship?” Ben looked between him and Myles, looking mildly perturbed. This was not going as he had expected. But thankfully he just went with it.

“I accept, with gratitude.”

“Then be reborn. From this day forward you will be known as Ben Vhehn, of Clan Vhehn, House Mereel.” He motioned toward the room. “Welcome, vod.” Jaster watched as Myles took the bracers from Jango and helped Ben put them on. The redhead looked at them for a moment, adjusting them easily, before nodding to Jango in thanks.

“Thank you, alor, Jango, I will wear them with honor.”

The room erupted into cheers as Myles clapped Ben on the back and welcomed him into the family, while Jango shyly stepped closer to the redhead and accepted a one armed hug.

Obi-wan the Jetii was no more. Ben Vhehn the Mando’ad had risen in his place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a;
> 
> Verde- Warriors, Soldiers.  
> Br.- Shortened from Baar’ur, meaning Medic.  
> Striil- Strill, a highly intelligent six-legged hunting carnivore, capable of gliding and flight. Used primarily as hunting partners and guards.  
> Vhehn- Pronounced Feign, meaning Earthy/Earthen.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi POV!
> 
> The story will stay mostly in Jaster's POV but I'll have a few here and there from Obi's perspective.

Sitting in the middle of a large celebration Obi- Ben looked around at the joy filled mando'ade and had to shove down another wave of disquiet. He hid it well as nervousness and shyness, at being new and unused to the rambunctiousness of mando'ade soldiers, but that wasn’t the truth of it at all. Honestly it was hard to separate what he knew should have happened and what had actually happened. What O- Ben had stopped from happening.

In his own timeline, at this point, the True Mandalorians would have been simmering in rage and wallowing in grief at the loss of their leader. Looking at one another with uncertainty as a young Jango Fett was tailed by Myles, trying to fill the enormous hole left by his recently deceased father. The fact that he might have been force sensitive had never crossed anyone on the council’s mind. Yet the mando'ade knew, even celebrated, their force sensitive brethren.

Just from where he was sitting he could see one of the warriors using the force to keep a stack of dishes in place, balanced on their head, as another continued to build onto the stack. A group nearby were betting on how many items could be stacked before they lost control and how long they could hold everything before they lost focus. Jaster’s explanation, that the Manda was an actual outside power much like the force, made a little more sense now that he’d felt it first hand.

The power that had swept through him when he swore the Resol’nare was both foreign yet familiar, like an old friend. He had been startled when he realized he had, indeed, felt such a thing before. Back on Mandalore… after he had realized he was beginning to fall in love with the colorful culture of the mando'ade. It was like some large feline had settled possessively in his breast, purring contentedly and welcoming him home.

It made his memories of what Satine had eventually become, what she had done to secure her power, all the more distressing. Although he still couldn’t come to regret his love for the young woman who had only wanted the best for her people he grieved what she had done to her own culture. Destroying a culture was one of the most insidious ways to kill a people. Especially when you made celebrating that culture a punishable offense.

“Ben, if you ever want to change clans just say the word.” He turned his attention back outward and looked at the warrior who’d spoken to him. A human male with golden skin and deep brown eyes smiled at him playfully, words slurring a little. Someone had been imbibing the tihaar a little too much. “Speak the vows with me and it’ll be all taken care of.” He chuckled, feeling flattered by the attention. So far this was the third proposition he’d received, although it was the first one asking him to outright marry them. The other two had been an adoption and an offer to share a bunk for the foreseeable future.

“Nope, nuh-uh, shoo! Go on, get!” Myles said, gray eyes sparkling with mirth. “You leave my vod’ika alone!” Ben scoffed.

“I beg your pardon, I am fairly certain I am older than you.” The man grinned at him.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re the foundling, that makes you younger than me. It also makes you my responsibility.” He couldn’t help the smile those words pulled from him as others nearby grumbled about how unfair it was that Myles had ‘poached’ him.

It was, admittedly, a little odd that so many of these people were suddenly so invested in getting to know him. When he’d shown up in their camp they were on the verge of attacking him on sight. Only the Mand’alor at his side kept them from doing anything rash. Thankfully, as he’d spoken with Myles, he had felt their emotions shifting from active aggression to defensive aggression and, after helping Jango, to a wary acceptance and budding interest.

They knew he had been a jedi, they knew he had the force, and yet none of them were afraid of it. Of him. Not everyone was as perfectly open and accepting of him, people were all different after all, but none of them were rejecting him outright. It was quite surprising but at the same time very… comforting.

“Just because he’s Clan Vhehn now doesn’t mean you can keep him to yourself.” Growled Jango as dropped down on the bench next to Ben, handing him another glass of ne’tra gal. He chuckled and took the new glass of ale with gratitude. “You’re still going to teach me, right? So we can find Arla.” Jango muttered just loud enough that Ben could overhear him. He paused, the drink set against his lips.

Should he teach Jango how to use the force? The boy was already so angry and considering what he had done… no. He couldn’t think like that. What Jango had done in the future was a moot point. This Jango hadn’t lost his father to a traitor and been forced to become a leader at fourteen out of necessity. He hadn’t lost everyone he knew and loved before being forced into slavery for years. He was just a boy of fourteen who had already lost one family.

Ben promised himself, and the force, that he would do all he could to prevent the war from his own timeline. The force was nudging him to join the mando'ade, to help them and in doing so help stop the return of the Sith… Another thing he needed to speak with Jaster about in private.

“Yes, Jango, I will teach you.” He promised. On his other side Myles choked on his drink before he started to laugh. Ben looked over at him but his new… elder brother he supposed, just grinned at him.

“Teaching the next generation already?” Something about the way he said it made Jango feel equally amused in the force, although Ben had no idea why. “Jan’ika you’re a sneaky little shit.” The teen barked a laugh and held up his glass in a mock salute.

“So are you, Commander Vhehn. Buir’s still pissed about that stunt, by the way, but once he figures it out he’ll probably go easy on you.” Myles made a face but nodded. None of which told Ben anything.

“I do believe I am missing something here.” He said lightly, looking between the two of them with narrowed eyes to show how much he did not appreciate that fact.

“You’ll understand eventually. Just another thing whoever taught you Mando’a seems to have forgotten about.” Myles said offhandedly, waving away his confusion. “By the way, Jan’ika, do you know where Jaster went? He just vanished all of a sudden.” Jango shrugged.

“He said he remembered something he’d forgotten about earlier and disappeared into his quarters. I think he’s in the kitchen now though,” the boy tilted his head, as if he were searching for something. Ben recognized what he was doing and smiled into is cup. “Yeah, he’s in the kitchen. Not sure why.” He frowned in concern but didn’t get up from his seat. Myles just took this information in stride and returned to his alcohol.

“Ben! Help us settle a debate, would you?” A group of three warriors strode over, shoving others out of their way and stealing the bench across from he, Jango, and Myles. “My vod’ika here heard that the Jetiise are pacifists but my riduur here disagrees with him, thinks its a stupid rumor. So what’s the truth?” Ben blinked and set his drink down on the table, frowning slightly.

“As people who have a strong connection to the Force the Jetiise can feel the lives of everyone around them at all times, some of them go so far as to be able to feel every single insect.” There was a hush around him as people turned to listen. “Feeling someone’s life get cut short can be mentally and even physically painful, depending on the Jetii and if they had any connection with the other person. As a whole they prefer to act as diplomats, researchers, and teachers. The vast majority of them are made of entire corps dedicated to mapping safe routes through the galaxy, growing food, and giving medical aid. The ones you might meet during a more violent mission are most probably Jedi Knights.” He spoke the words in basic, since there really wasn’t an equivalent in Mando’a. “They make up the warriors of the Jetiise. I can assure you that they are most certainly not made up of pacifists.” He chuckled.

“You were a ‘Knight’ weren’t you?” Someone piped up.

“I was a Master, actually.” There was a feeling of confusion from more than one person and Ben chuckled. “A Master is a Knight that has raised a student to Knighthood. You’ll know the students by their braids or a special set of beads and decorations hanging from their head if they are without hair. Once a student has passed their trials there is a ceremony where we cut the braid to show the student’s growth. Often that braid is gifted to the teacher, although not always.”

“Did you gift your teacher your braid?” Ben tried to hide a grimace but he could feel their curiosity and wariness. They wanted him to be open with them, so they could learn to trust him. He sighed and looked at the speaker.

“In a manner of speaking. I passed my Knighthood Trial by killing the one who killed my Master in front of me.” More than one of the gathered warriors winced and the one who asked the question gave him an apologetic look. “After the Council cut my braid I place it on my master’s funeral pyre.” A melancholy settled over everyone and he had no doubt that some of them were remembering their own loved ones who had passed away.

“Has anyone explained Remembrances to you?” Myles asked him. Ben nodded.

“Yes I… I know about Remembrances.” A hand landed on his shoulder and he looked down into a pair of amber eyes filled with understanding. He swallowed, mind conjuring up another set of eyes that were far too similar.

“Well this is a depressing atmosphere.” Thankful for the distraction he turned and grinned over at the Mand’alor. The man willed people out of his way, a trio of covered plates on a tray between his hands. Taking the place across from Ben that had been vacated Jaster set the tray down. He set a dish in front of Jango then Ben then himself, shoving the tray off to the side. Ben caught a whiff of spices that tickled the back of his nose and looked down at the dishes. Jaster set down some cutlery as Jango perked up.

“Buir? Is this-?” Jaster nodded.

“Ben mentioned he liked tiingilar, so I thought I’d make some as a welcoming gift.” He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, but it seemed a little stiff. Next to him Myles covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes crinkling with mirth. Jango’s jaw dropped and he looked between the plates, Ben, and his father.

“You. You made tiingilar. As in Mereel Clan tiingilar?” Ben wasn’t sure why Jango would find that so strange or surprising. As Jaster’s son wouldn’t he be eating Mereel Clan recipes? Yet those around him also seemed a little startled by this news.

“I did. I remembered I’d kept some of my spices in reserve but since we’re heading back home I can just buy more when we get there.” Jango leaned forward so he could stare past Ben to Myles. They shared a knowing grin and Ben wanted to sigh.

“None for me, Mand’alor? I’m hurt.” Myles teased as Ben lifted the lid off his dish and took in the rich scent of spices. Jaster pointed his fork at the man, giving him a mock glare.

“No. This is a treat for Ben. Besides, Clan Vhehn has terrible taste in tiingilar, you’d just complain.” Someone nearby started to laugh as if that was the funniest thing in the world and eventually everyone was laughing along.

“Jas’buir, please don’t get into a feud with Myles over food.” Jango begged, sounding both pained and embarrassed in that way only a fourteen year old could. “I’m sure Ben will like yours better anyway.” He snorted and decided to play along.

“Oh, we’ll have to see about that, won’t we? I might be able to eat bland rations like the next warrior but I have very refined tastes, I’ll have you know.” Jango’s mouth fell open and Jaster’s expression became determined, a glint of steel entering his eyes as he straightened in his seat.

“Those are fighting words, Ben.” The Mand’alor growled at him without anger. Ben chuckled.

“One of the Tenets is loyalty to ones Clan, Mand’alor. I can’t very well have you insulting my new ori’vod and not lift a finger to defend him, now can I?” Jango snickered and Myles grinned triumphantly.

“I have such a wonderful vod’ika. Such a gift. He’ll make Clan Vhehn very proud some day.” Ben finally broke down laughing with the others at the overly dramatic way Myles was acting, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.

Picking up his fork he gathered a single morsel from the dish and blew on it to cool it before delicately placing it in his mouth. He knew the others were watching for his reaction so he played it up a little. Until the spices actually hit and he let out a low sound of appreciation. There was a nice tingle on his tongue and a sharp bite that eventually gave way to a smooth smokiness. Across from him Jaster was eying him with a downright wicked smirk, giving off a faint sense of triumph in the force. He rolled his eyes and swallowed the bite.

“Alright, I’ll admit that this is the best tiingilar I’ve ever tasted. Don’t let it go to your head though, I’ve only ever had street food from vendors in Keldabe and fancy dishes from upscale restaurants in Sundari.” Suddenly he was bombarded with questions about where he’d been and what he’d been doing on Manda’yaim. He cursed himself for mentioning it.

“When were you ever on Manda’yaim? Is that where you learned Mando’a? You do have an odd mix of Mando’a and Laandur Mando’a…” He winced at the last question. He knew that some of his words were a little off, having learned them from Satine with her New Mandalorian leanings. Well, before she refused to speak Mando’a at all.

“When I was a jet’ika my master and I were sent to Manda’yaim to guard a wealthy heiress who had returned from schooling on Coruscant after the death of her father. Her family was being targeted because of their New Mandalorian leanings. The mission parameters were private so I cannot speak of it in detail. But my master and I spent a year on Manda’yaim, primarily in Sundari, guarding her. It’s where I first learned Mando’a.” He grinned playfully, hoping to divert their attention from the vagueness of the information. “Of course I found out there was another city that supposedly housed true mando’ade, the kind that the jetiise have always been wary of. I was sixteen at the time and quite adventurous. It was in Keldabe that I was introduced to the culture, not the watered down version that the New Mandalorians claimed it should be.” He heard a few grunts and saw nods of agreement and approval.

“Well, now that you’re one of us we can fill you in on all the things an Outsider wouldn’t have been allowed to learn about. Like certain… cultural practices.” Myles said with a mischievous grin aimed at Jaster. The Mand’alor’s ears pinked slightly and he could feel a twinge of embarrassment from the man. It was a surprise, really, as Jaster had some of the most impressive mental shields he’d ever seen, and that wasn’t even taking into account the power that coursed through him, protecting him from passive readings in the force. If Ben wanted to read him he would have to focus quite hard on the task, and Jaster would most certainly be able to feel the intrusion.

Not that O- Ben would ever do such a thing. That was an invasion of privacy.

“Finish your food, Ben. The baar’ur said you’re underfed and need to gain some weight. No one argues with the baar’ur, not even me.” There were chuckles and a few shudders of dread from the gathered warriors and Ben laughed. Picking up his fork he started in on the meal with the appropriate amount of gusto.

* * *

Later that night, after the day long festivities were over, Ben Vhehn stared at the ceiling above him in his quarters and contemplated on the force. From the moment the ship had been torn in half and his padawans, yes he considered them both his padawans regardless of what their titles and relations actually were, had been ripped from him he expected his life to be once more filled with despair and hopelessness. Feeling their bright lights winking out of existence had shaken him to the core of his very being. He had been well prepared to die at every moment in the war but he had not been prepared to lose two of the people he cared about most.

Then the Force itself had intervened.

He saw the galaxy as it was and what it could become. Saw it with a clarity he had never heard of before. At first he thought he had been the one to become one with the force and thanked it for only taking him, not his children. Then the Force opened itself to him and he began to See.

The veil was ripped away and he watched as things he was never privy to before played out before his eyes. He watched as Jango lost everything he’d ever known for the second time and was forced into slavery. Watched as Dooku was seduced by the darkness in the wake of Qui-gon’s death. Watched Satine as her grief and guilt consumed every waking moment of her life, pushing her toward more fanatical beliefs in a paranoid bid to never feel pain or loss ever again.

He saw what Anakin had done on Tatooine. The atrocity he committed and how the Chancellor, the Sith Lord they had been hunting for, had begun twisting his beloved padawan against the jedi.

He watched the darkness as it coalesced into a black hole of selfishness and hatred so strong all of Coruscant was corrupted by its mere presence.

 **‘No more!’** Cried the Force, before it reached out and saved its beloved champion from the jaws of death.

And wasn’t that just the most interesting part? It was not Anakin that the force chose to save the future of the galaxy, but Obi-wan. A man who had lost everything, who had been brought low so many times, yet still held firmly to the light even as the galaxy fell apart around him. Who refused to let himself fall to hatred and would give everyone a second chance if he was able. A man who loved with his entire being while never letting it become a possessive and selfish thing.

It had been humbling to see himself in that light.

 **‘Change.’** The Force soothed as it slowly cradled him in the aftermath of the crash. **‘Trust.’**

Then it had reached deep inside him and brushed against something. A bright flame like a miniature star that burned with fierce determination in his breast.

It was only now, alone in his quarters, that he finally understood what had taken root inside him, what had been there all along.

It was the Manda.

Obi-wan Kenobi was gone. He had died when the Larty he’d been in was ripped apart by enemy fire and crashed on some forlorn battlefield. In his place was Ben Vhehn, reborn from the ashes of war.

And Ben had a mission to complete. One he would not, could not, fail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a;
> 
> Tihaar- A strong clear spirit made from fruit, like eau de vie.  
> Ne’tra gal- Black ale, a sweet, almost spicy black beer similar to milk stout.  
> Vod’ika- Younger sibling, or a friend one considers to be like a younger sibling.  
> Riduur- Spouse, life partner, husband/wife.  
> Tiingilar- Spicy caserole.  
> Laandur Mando’a- Delicate/Fragile Mando’a. Used as an insult for anyone who uses a softer, less aggressive, version of the Mandalorian language.  
> Jet’ika- Padawan  
> Baar'r- Medic, healer.  
> Larty- Slang term for a LAATi troop transport.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaster takes a moment to consider whether or not it is okay for someone in his position to have a crush on the new guy.  
> Ben tries to teach Jango how to meditate. It goes as well as you might expect.

[Jaster]

Groaning as he rolled out of bed he checked his comm for any alerts and let out a sigh of relief when he saw nothing that couldn’t be dealt with later. A quick trip to the fresher later he was throwing on his armor and heading for the mess. The late shift would be getting off and the early shift would be heading to get some rest so the line for food was quite long. Looking around he noticed all the subdued or downright miserable verde and snickered to himself. It looked like some of his soldiers had indulged a little too much.

Jaster remembered those days. Now he only drank when he wanted to forget, which was a rare occurrence. His responsibilities as Mand’alor and duty to Jango made heavy drinking unappealing in the long run. He wasn’t young anymore either and the medics tended to give him the stink eye when he drank too much. That wasn’t even touching on his son’s reaction either. The boy could be a right little bastard when Jaster did something Jango thought was a danger to his own health.

Grabbing a cup of shig and some hot breakfast cereal he sat down wherever there was room and dug into first meal. As he sipped the steaming hot liquid he glanced around and frowned when he didn’t see Ben or Jango anywhere. He hadn’t seen Ben acting drunk the night before, even if he’d sucked back enough tihaar to down a bantha, so he didn’t think the man was sleeping off a hangover. In the mornings Jango always got up early for target practice and was almost always in the mess by the time Jaster got around to grabbing first meal. The lack of either of them was a little concerning.

Catching sight of Myles near the caf table, yawning wide enough he could practically hear the man’s jaw creaking, he waved his second over.

“Morn’ Alor.” The man mumbled as he plonked his ass on the bench across from Jaster. Dark grey eyes drooped slightly and he snorted in amusement.

“Long night?” Myles glared at him but the effect was lost when he yawned again.

“Had a long talk with the Allit’alor. They were a little less than impressed that I adopted someone without clearing it with them first.” Jaster winced even as a small smirk crossed his face. He was glad he was the head of his own clan. Dealing with chiefs from other clans was hard enough. He’d hate to clash with someone in his own clan. Jango was still young enough that although he could get argumentative he still obeyed Jaster when given a direct order.

“What happened?” Myles smiled triumphantly.

“Ben is still thoroughly adopted.” Jaster snorted. “Clan Vhehn is very proud to have the wielder of the Dha’kad’au as part of the family. Especially if the Mand’alor themselves has his eye on them.” Choking on his shig he wheezed and slapped his chest to clear his burning lungs. Looking up at the smug grin and mischievous twinkle in Myles’ eyes he let out a low groan.

“…that obvious?” He asked when he was finally able to speak without coughing.

“Alor, you made him Mereel Clan Tiingilar. The only time you cook is when Jango is sick or missing home. Otherwise? Everyone knows you hate being in the kitchen.” He had to look away from Myles as his face began to feel a little too warm. “If it’s any consolation I don’t think Ben has noticed.” Jaster frowned.

“He’s a bit…” Myles snickered.

“Oblivious? Yeah. Not his fault though. The one who taught him was a New Mandalorian, they probably didn’t even know half the cultural context when they taught him Mando’a. He said he was sixteen and living in Sundari at the time so I’m surprised he even knows as much Mando’a as he does.” Jaster grunted in agreement as he took another bite of his meal.

“I’ll hold off on telling him about courting traditions for a little while but if you’re going to be that obvious about it he’s going to notice.” He let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. Did he want Ben to notice his interest? He’d only just lost his family and given up his past life. He was going to need time to adjust. The poor man didn’t need the Mand’alor he now served to be showing that kind of interest in him.

“It wasn’t…” He hesitated. “I only made him the tiingilar because he asked about different recipes. He didn’t know so it wasn’t a real offer of courtship. Just an offer of friendship. He has enough on his plate.” Myles watched him, intelligent eyes narrowed slightly.

“Okay, I get it. But you know Jango isn’t going to stop. He wants to see you happy and he already likes Ben.” And Jango was rarely wrong about people. He wondered if that was due to him having the Force or if it was a gift from Manda. Either way it should have been obvious that Montross was scum with how his son always bristled in his presence. Hindsight was a cruel bitch. “That boy loves you something fierce but I think he’s been missing the attention that comes from having a second buir.” Jaster let out a low groan and Myles gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

“Should have thought of that. He’s always such a good kid when he’s not being a contrary little bastard.” Myles laughed, shaking with mirth.

“He is a teenager now.” Jaster gave him a dry look and it sent the man into another round of laughter.

“Do you know where he is this morning? Surprised I haven’t seen him yet.” Myles downed the last of his coffee.

“In the training room with Ben. He actually skipped blaster practice this morning to learn some force osik. Saw the two of them sitting in a corner, eyes closed and all quiet. Not sure what they’re doing now though.” Jaster smiled at the idea of Ben teaching Jango. They hadn’t talked further about it but it looked as if he’d made up his mind on his own.

“I think I’ll go see how they’re doing before I tackle the rest of the datawork. It’ll give you a little extra time to wake up too. Unless you want to sort it for me?” Myles snorted and cradled the empty cup.

“Nope. I’m getting more caf. See you in an hour?” He nodded.

“Around then, yeah. If something doesn’t explode and need my immediate attention.” Myles gave him a searing look.

“Don’t call the stars down around our ears now, we just got out of one hell of a mess. We don’t need another.” Jaster chuckled.

“Fair enough.”

[Ben]

Sitting across from the young Jango Fett he carefully hid his trepidation behind his strongest shields. Considering they were enough to keep Anakin out of his head he was certain that the young teenager before him wouldn’t be able to feel how anxious he was. Thank the force.

When Jango asked him that morning if he would teach him how to strengthen his bond with his elder sibling Ben could feel the teen’s worry and concern plainly. It tore at his heartstrings, especially because of the all too familiar eyes that were looking up at him as if he held all the answers. He’d caved immediately and now here they were in a corner of the training room that was filled with the early risers as they went about their normal routines.

“I want you to close your eyes and focus solely on your breathing. Inhale and exhale, this counts as one. It doesn’t matter how long you take, just breath as deeply and evenly as possible. As you breathe continue counting until you reach ten. When you’ve reached ten I want you to count back down to one. Always counting an inhale and exhale as a single instance.” Jango’s nose crinkled and how brow furrowed as he frowned in concentration. Ben had to be very careful not to let his amusement show. Force it reminded him of Anakin when he was younger. “If you lose track of the number, become distracted, or you hesitate I want you to start over again.”

“Why?” Ah, he was at that age wasn’t he?

“Because this is about clearing your mind and learning focus. Once you can count consistently without being distracted I will teach you the next step.” Jango was quiet for a moment before he seemed to give a mental shrug and closed his eyes. “Be sure to sit up straight.” One eye cracked open and he could read the unasked question on his face. “Cramps aren’t very fun and curling in on yourself makes breathing more difficult.” The teen grunted and closed his eyes again.

With a small chuckle Ben closed his own eyes and began to just breathe. After so many years of meditation he had earned the ability to just slip away into the flow of the force and let it fill him.

It was as simple as breathing now.

He could almost pinpoint the exact moment a stray thought caught the teen’s mind and how he got annoyed before he had to start over. It was perhaps fifteen minutes later, a whole six minutes longer than Anakin at his worst, before the teen was huffing in frustration.

“What’s bothering you?” He asked without opening his eyes. Jango started slightly, apparently he thought Ben was too focused to pay attention to his surroundings.

“Can’t stop thinking.” The teen said after a moment of silence. Ben hummed in response and slowly opened his eyes, coming back to himself fully.

“When do you feel the most at peace?” He was given a blank look and let out a small sigh. “Do you ever have moments where time just seems to slip away? When you’re so focused on something that you don’t notice anything around you or time passing at all? Where everything just feels right?” The teen blinked before smirking at him.

“Blaster training.” Ben huffed a small laugh. Of course it would involve blasters or otherwise some kind of fighting.

“How about hand-to-hand? Same thing?” Jango thought about it for a moment and shrugged.

“Kind of? Everything narrows and I get really focused on the person in front of me. Makes it easier to predict what they’re gonna do next.” He paused for a moment. “Sometimes I can see exactly how I’m going to win. And it feels like… like I forced them to make a mistake somehow.” Ben felt a jolt of surprise.

“Does the reverse happen?” The teen looked at him quizzically.

“Do you imagine your comrades winning, even if the odds are against you, and they somehow pull off the impossible.” The teen’s eyes widened slightly and he nodded.

“That a jetii thing?” Ben placed a hand on his chin, giving himself a moment to collect his thoughts.

“From what I’ve heard, yes. Although it isn’t something the jetiise have taught in nearly a thousand years. They called it Battle Meditation. It is a rare gift.” Jango looked skeptical. “It is said that a single jetii could cause an entire enemy army to falter while simultaneously granting a boost of morale to their comrades. Unfortunately I don’t have access to the archives anymore. But I might be able to look into this further for you, if you like?” He could practically see the gears turning in the teen’s mind.

“Yeah. Sounds useful.” He frowned. “But what about Arla?” Ben gave him a reassuring smile.

“We’ll focus on finding your sibling first, of course. But I think a moving meditation might work better for you.”

“That’s a thing?” Ben chuckled.

“It is. My last padawan-” He stalled as a wave of loss made his throat constrict. “He found it very difficult to quiet his mind. He found working on machines was far more calming than to sit still. I imagine someone like yourself, used to being on the move and always thinking, would find it easier as well.” Motioning for Jango to stand he got to his feet, running his hands self consciously down the new training clothes Urmai had handed him the day before. “Have you ever trained with a sword?” Jango perked up.

“Some, not much. There’s not many people who know how to wield a sword that have the time to teach me.” Something about the way the teen said it made Ben think that even if they had the time Jango might not have wanted to learn from them.

“Well, if I’m going to teach you jetii meditation I might as well teach you the sword as well. It’s how I learned in the first place.” A wide grin crossed Jango’s face and Ben’s stomach clenched.

Force he looked just like a younger version of Cody, it was almost too much.

“…are you okay?” Blinking he forced himself to smile.

“I’m fine. You wouldn’t happen to know if they keep swords in the armory here, would you?” Jango eyed him with a look that clearly said he didn’t believe him for a second. But thankfully he didn’t comment on the raging emotions Ben was trying to keep under wraps.

“They do. Come on, don’t have all day.” Ben chuckled and followed behind the teen as he led the way toward the armory.

Watching him Ben felt a warmth in his chest. It was hope. Hope that the future would be better, that his loss was a simple price to pay for the betterment of the galaxy.

This was the right path. He just had to remain strong.


End file.
